C. M. VERSCHOYLE 617

The wind arose, and far below me tossed A sea of sombre-crested pines; the cloudy skies
Burst with the gale, and showed an orange rent,
And heavy clouds, like boats with tattered sails, Flapped low, and dipped and raced about the height Until they sank in mist that swathed my sight.
Then I closed my eyes,
And tore my way from the poor earthly tent, And free, I knew my labours all well spent, And no pang lost.
Abandoned hung the earthly form While round it swayed and shrieked the storm ; But my soul, being free, Rejoiced most thankfully, . Until a voice cried,—nay, Still must thou lay Thy soul upon the rood. So my stripped soul was fastened there, And that cross stood Beside the centre, towering gaunt and bare While other thousand years went by ; Till my purged spirit burst its sheath, And free of soul and body knelt beneath The triple emblem of a conquered death.
Now let my spirit rise to God who gave— Not through the grave,
But upward into light. Aye, chanted seraphs with their dulcimers, The ladder it prefers
Is the great midmost cross. My spirit trembled, but I clomb—
Ah, then fell night ; This, this is not my home.
618 C. M. VERSCHOYLE
And in a horror far too deep to tell I knew the pains of hell, And for a thousand years I drank this bitter cup, Until my spirit yielded itself up, And hands of love Stretched from above Upraised me in a most delicious rest, Upon that cross and ladder of delight, Which now I knew was but my Master’s breast
The Deliverer
HE city quakes, the earth is filled with blood—- I, I that love Thee raised Thee on this Rood !)
Lord, I am least of all Thy followers, Yet greatest in my love: devotion spurs Me on to strange deep thoughts and stranger deeds My roughness planned not erst, For all unversed In ways of love I would content Thy needs, Delight Thee with a flower, a word, a song, Striving to make Thy toilsome way less long, Its stones less bitter, its rebuffs less rude, To guard Thee ’gainst the sharp ingratitude Of those who beg Time and Eternity, Both worlds at once, abusing clemency.
Dazzle them, Master, with a word
Such as the universe has never heard ; Whisper it till the earth’s foundations quake, And fiery worlds awake And shake